


If Love Is The Answer (Could You Rephrase The Question)

by rain_sleet_snow



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 17:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10341117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/pseuds/rain_sleet_snow
Summary: Jyn hasn’t admitted that she really cares about anything or anyone since Saw Guerrera, and look where that got her: alone at sixteen with a blaster and a knife and a broken heart. She likes to think she’s better now, smarter and stronger, but really, she hasn’t got any further than that frightened girl in a bunker by herself with shattered beliefs at her feet.***They kissed for the sake of the mission, and Jyn desperately wants to do something about it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Too Close (Not Close Enough)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10231292) by [ivyspinners](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyspinners/pseuds/ivyspinners). 



> I wrote this for venusmelody, because her fic deserved a sequel but she couldn't be bothered to write it. ;) Hope you like it, Rosa!
> 
> Thanks go to Celeste for the beta.

_If love is the answer, could you rephrase the question? – Lily Tomlin_

 

 

Jyn knows Bodhi can tell something’s wrong from the minute the two of them saunter into the ship like they have nowhere else to be and nothing to run from; like they’re just another pair of spacers, hitching a lift back to one of the superfreighters moored off Imperial Port with a crewmate. They’re clean, and the ruined formalwear is hidden in the cloth bag slung over her shoulder, wrapped in a clean spacer’s overall, non-descript personal effects that don’t belong to her, and menstrual products. Cassian’s a little scratched, they’ve been chatting idly about his inability to get into a bar on shore leave without getting tossed out of it, but she isn’t visibly marked. And yet Bodhi’s eyes linger on her, then flick to Cassian, and then back again.

 

Jyn once spent a few days marooned on a moon where the seas were phosphorescent after dark. It was mostly a resort destination, so it was a miserable place for someone with no money, but at night, trailing your hands through the water and watching it light up, it was as beautiful as it was supposed to be. Jyn feels like Cassian’s trailed his hands through her, like there are shining marks on her where his fingers rested. She feels as if Bodhi can somehow tell.

 

“It’s about time,” Bodhi says, which could mean any number of things.

 

Jyn rolls her eyes. “Sorry. This one –” she kicks Cassian, but lightly; these boots are steel-tipped – “made us late.”

 

Cassian looks at her, flat, unimpressed. “You weren’t complaining.”

 

No, she wasn’t. The kissing was her idea. And Cassian came to her when she held out her hands to him and said _it’ll work_ , and Jyn doesn’t know what to do with that.

 

“Right,” Bodhi says, lilting over the word in a way that says volumes about all sorts of things.

 

Jyn’s grateful that she isn’t due to see Chirrut and Baze for at least another fortnight, and that there still isn’t a replacement chassis for Kaytoo, so he’s been forced to stick with the little cleaning droid they put his back-up in as a last resort, chasing Princess Leia’s useless protocol droid around Hoth and bleeping offensive factual remarks at him in Binary. If Bodhi can tell something’s going on, Kaytoo and Chirrut would probably have deduced or divined every detail. Jyn can’t deal with that. She can barely deal with the fact that it happened at all. It’s been nine months of total ease and sudden electricity, moments when anything could happen that always pass without anything happening at all, because Cassian won’t make the first move and Jyn can’t. It’s like he wants her to prove she wants to be here, with him; it’s like she wants him to prove that he wants her, and she’s got so used to the stalemate that has created that something actually happening between the two of them is a shock she doesn’t know what to do with.

 

Jyn sits down and straps herself into a jump seat at the back of the cockpit. She’s not avoiding Cassian’s eyes. She’s just not looking at him.

 

“Let’s just go,” Cassian says, and sits down too.

 

If Jyn’s honest with herself, she’s afraid of what will happen to her if she lets Cassian all the way in. It’s stupid – he knows all her secrets and he’s slept in her bed, like the trusted friend he is  – but for some reason, there are some things that feel different, that feel off-limits. Jyn hasn’t admitted that she really cares about anything or anyone since Saw Guerrera, and look where that got her: alone at sixteen with a blaster and a knife and a broken heart. She likes to think she’s better now, smarter and stronger, but really, she hasn’t got any further than that frightened girl in a bunker by herself with shattered beliefs at her feet.

 

This is the difference between Cassian and herself. Cassian knows how to invest with no certain return, and Jyn doesn’t, and this is why they’re stuck.

 

She found the courage to do it before Scarif, but then she had a million good reasons and no time to hesitate. Now all she has is the idea that she and Cassian might make even better lovers than partners in rebellion, and the timescale keeps shifting. Every time she’s managed to scrape up the courage to reach out, the moment has passed. Kaytoo has interrupted by running over someone’s feet, or Mon Mothma has demanded a briefing, or Princess Leia and Han Solo have started up another screaming row so the corridor is irredeemably blocked and everyone’s looking. Once, Cassian simply fell asleep before Jyn could bring herself to speak, and Jyn just sat there, watching him, chewing on her lower lip and trying to find it in herself to reach out and take his hand. She fell asleep like that, too, and woke with a sore neck and a raw lip.

 

Bodhi’s take-off is a bit rocky.

 

“Sorry,” Bodhi says.

 

“It’s fine,” Jyn says. Her voice is cracked and harsh.

 

Bodhi stiffens, but doesn’t say anything.

 

Cassian looks at her, and looks away.

 

Jyn hates herself for this, for all of it, and she frequently thinks it would be easier to run. But while she doesn’t know how to be brave yet, she does know what the easy way out would cost her.

 

 

 

The ice tunnels on Hoth are not yet complete, so half the Rebellion is still bouncing between assorted capital ships. These, of course, move all the time, and it takes two days before they even make it back to the nearest one, as just getting clearance to locate it is a hell of a process. Bodhi’s accommodation is sorted before they’ve even docked; he has a semi-permanent berth wherever Rogue Squadron are, and Wedge Antilles is apparently on the _Padmé Amidala_ for the week and has left a message for Bodhi. So Bodhi just wanders off to find a game of dejarik and a space in a spare half of a friend’s bunk, and Jyn and Cassian are left to the mercy of the duty quartermaster.

 

“I’m afraid it’s shared,” the duty quartermaster says, with no real regret in her voice. “But you two are all right with that, right? You’ve got months of joint assignments listed here.”  


“It’s fine,” Cassian says.

 

“On the plus side,” the quartermaster says, all five of her eyes darting between the two of them, “you’ll find it very comfortable.”

 

“Thanks,” Jyn says.

 

The quartermaster was right, Jyn thinks as Cassian lets them both in to the berth, after a quick, stilted meal in the mess. It is very comfortable. It’s twice as large as these things usually are, and there’s a refresher you can actually turn around in, and the single large bed has proper blankets on. Jyn rubs the fabric between her thumb and forefinger, and it doesn’t spark like it’s going to make both her and Cassian’s hair stand on end and snap with static electricity after a night of sleeping in it.

 

Cassian shuts himself in the fresher to clean himself off. They haven’t bothered with that for months; Jyn doesn’t remember when either of them stopped worrying about what the other could see, but it was so long ago, and happened so unconsciously, that she actually startles when the door shuts. She also needs to shower before it'll be worth changing, so she just sits down, scrolls through her few messages, and waits.

 

When Cassian appears, he’s plainly cleaner and more comfortable. There’s something about the comparatively relaxed slope of his shoulders, the relative ease in his eyes, that makes Jyn’s gut twist. She wants to be the reason he’s that calm, not something that makes him tense.

 

She wants. But this isn’t one of those moments when she can reach out and take, so she just half-smiles and takes her turn in the fresher.

 

She wishes she could say she feels as comfortable as Cassian looked when she leaves the fresher, but she doesn’t. She braids her hair roughly and pulls on a vest and a pair of soft knee-length trousers, and pauses before she lets herself back into the bedroom. Her fingers hover over the swipe panel that will open the door, and she scrapes her teeth over her lower lip and shuts her eyes and thinks _come **on** , Jyn_.

 

She can do better than this. She can be better than this. She wants Cassian, and he wants her too – she can still feel the imprint of his hands on her thighs, his palms curled around the back of her head, his mouth on her throat. There are no visible marks, but Jyn can almost see the invisible ones shining when she shuts her eyes. In the mirror she looks pale and tense.

 

All Cassian needs from her is proof she wants him. There's no risk to Jyn in that. But proving it to him means admitting it to herself, and Jyn is –

 

Jyn is –

 

Jyn’s heart is hammering. She holds her breath for a full minute until her chest stops heaving.

 

She can’t spend a night in the same bed as him like this. She can't do it. It was bad enough sleeping on the floor of the hopper Bodhi flew them back to the _Amidala_ in, the two of them on opposite sides of Bodhi.

 

She jabs at the swipe panel so hard she bends back the top joint of her middle finger, and grimaces her way out into the bedroom. Cassian’s sitting on the bed, where she was sitting, reading something – but he reacts at once, looking up, eyes sharpening.

 

“It’s nothing,” she says, and he nods slightly, slowly; but he doesn’t take his eyes off her.

 

He’s barefoot and wearing only a t-shirt and shorts, just as worn as her sleeping clothes. He looks like he’s set aside his armour. Jyn knows that’s only an illusion.

 

“Cassian,” she blurts.

 

His head tilts up slightly; there’s less distance in his eyes. It’s an open invitation to keep going – the kind of invitation Jyn has been refusing for months. This is one of their moments where the air is electric and anything could happen, the point at which she has always stepped back; the word _nothing_ is on her tongue.

 

Jyn chokes that word back, and takes one hasty step forward, another. Cassian’s set aside his datapad: she takes his hands and they’re shaking. He was so sure in that quiet dark corridor between the ballroom and the datavault, they were both so sure, and now look at them.

 

Cassian’s looking up at her. There’s an awful hope in his eyes, and that’s what forces Jyn into the last step she’s been flinching from, because she can’t come this far and let him down. The angle’s all wrong, but she leans down anyway, and catches his lips with hers. It’s awkward and full of teeth and Jyn’s back hurts already, but it feels so much more honest than that corridor kiss, than his hands up her skirt and her hands pulling at his shirt to put on a show, and _nothing_ dies in the space between their breathing.

 

“In the corridor,” Jyn says, before she can think better of it. Her eyes are screwed shut and her face is burning, but if she can’t risk this with Cassian, if she can’t manage it now, she never will. His fingers are curled tightly into hers. “I’ve – I want that."

 

There’s a high-strung, high-wire pause.

 

“I have since before Scarif,” Jyn admits. The words come out surprisingly steadily.

 

Cassian’s grip on her fingers is so tight Jyn thinks it might bruise, but her nails are still biting into his hands, so it’s probably a fair trade. He clears his throat, and then he says: "Yes. Me too."

 

Jyn’s eyes flash open so suddenly it almost hurts and everything’s very bright. Air feels strange in her lungs, and that dark look is back in Cassian’s eyes, that one that wants all of her, that one that makes her willing to give in a way she knows is a weakness. Jyn’s beginning to suspect she has a matching look.

 

“Jyn.” Cassian draws her hands closer to his torso, but it’s a waste of time; she’s already standing directly between his knees, as close as she can get to him without dropping into his lap. “Where you go, I go.”

 

It’s enough. It shouldn’t be news, but it’s enough.

 

Jyn feels the smile spread across her face like a fuse catching light, and sees the delighted lightning grin break out on Cassian’s; he tugs her hands lightly, and she tackles him backwards onto the bed, slides her aching hands into his hair and pins him down. He’s laughing, soft and disbelieving like a man faced with a miracle, and her cheeks hurt with her smile, and she’s going to make him feel like she did before - like her fingers are tracing light that won’t die on his skin, like they're both lit up, shining - by the time she’s finished here.

 

 

They’re meant to report back to Draven at Hoth in a day’s time, so Cassian and Jyn meet Bodhi at the hopper the next morning. Bodhi looks hungover and reluctantly awake, but his expressive eyes flash wide when he sees them both.

 

“You have a thing,” Bodhi says, gesturing illustratively at the side of Cassian’s neck.

 

Cassian folds his arms and nods, face impassive. Jyn can’t wait to see him do that in front of Draven. She herself has bluish-purple finger-marks on her hips - she keeps leaning against crates or walls and feeling the slight ache and smiling to herself - but they’re a lot less visible than the blotch she left on Cassian’s throat.

 

Bodhi looks between the two of them. “Right.”

 

There’s a long silence, and then Bodhi’s handsome face splits into a grin. “Baze owes me a bottle of moonshine now,” he says. “So, uh, thanks for that. Just keep it clean in the hopper, yeah?”

 

 

For that, Jyn spends ten minutes pressing Cassian into a wall of the hopper just out of Bodhi's sightline and leaving some more marks on his neck and collarbone, just below the edge of his shirt. Cassian likes it.

 

“I should have known I was asking for trouble!” Bodhi yells from the cockpit, but he’s laughing.

 

“This is embarrassing,” Cassian says, on a breathless note Jyn wants to get better acquainted with.

 

“Well, I can stop if you like,” Jyn says reasonably, lips soft against the wild pulse of his carotid, hidden smile wicked.

 

Cassian swears and pulls her tight against him, one hand fisted in her loosened hair, the other hot on the small of her back. “Don’t you _dare_.”

 

 

The phosphorescence has got into Jyn’s blood. She feels like it might be staying there.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at [ rain-sleet-snow](https://rain-sleet-snow.tumblr.com/). Come and say hi! :)


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